


Perihilion

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's cold and whiny and Dean's a big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perihilion

Perched atop an upended log, Sam draws the blankets in tighter and huddles further in on himself. It's not big enough to cover him completely, his legs and feet sticking out, underside of his thighs vulnerable to the cool night air. The fire Dean's built is only helping to warm the parts of him actually facing it and even that doesn't feel like nearly enough. Half of him is nice and toasty warm and the other half is _freezing_.

"Dude, quit your bitching."

Sam blinks, lips tugging into a frown. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't have to," Dean replies, jabbing a spare iron rod into the fire. The burning wood within crackles and crumbles, setting off a fresh flare of heat along with a flurry of sparks that blink away into the night sky.

Despite the new swell of warmth, Sam grumbles and huddles deeper into his makeshift cocoon, the blanket slightly muffling his words as he says, "When's Dad coming back?"

"Never," Dean answers without pause. "He left us here to die, Sammy. Thought you would've figured that out by now."

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"Actually, he left _one_ of us to die. We've got enough food here to last a couple days, maybe a week and a half if we really stretch it. But then we're done. At some point, one of us will kill the other just for the food source. See, it's a test. He's gonna figure out which of us is the better hunter and do away with some extra baggage all in one shot.

Sam only rolls his eyes and sighs. "You're so gross," he says, catching a hint of a smile on Dean's lips across the fire.

He expects Dean to come back with some kind of retort, but his brother surprises him with silence as he throws on a couple more logs, meticulously moving them into place with the rod. Sam has no idea how cold it is out here, but he could swear it's close to freezing. They're up in the mountains and, though it's nearly June, there are still chunks of snow visible on the ground in some places, in the patches and valleys the sun never reaches. Much like the backs of his legs right now, in fact.

With a huff, Sam pushes to his feet and turns his back to the fire, some of the heat finally licking at his calves and hamstrings. Of course, the switch makes the front of his legs immediately start to cool and Sam grumbles, "I still don't understand why we couldn't just stay in a motel somewhere."

"Don't know if you noticed, but there ain't too many out here, kiddo."

"He could've just dropped us off at one. Not like he hasn't done it before."

"Dude. What is your problem? You used to love camping."

"This isn't camping, Dean! This is just sleeping outside. We don't even have a _tent_."

"Jesus, when did you turn into such a girl?"

"I'm not. And that's sexist," Sam remarks, turning his head just a little to glare in Dean's general vicinity.

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is. You're using the word as an insult," Sam says, voice firm as he repeats what he can remember of Whitney Tremont's speech from last semester, "thereby implying a girl is weaker or lesser solely because of her gender."

" _Thereby_ ," Dean remarks. "Did you seriously just say that?" Sam turns back around, the fire immediately warming his face as he glowers at his brother. "Besides, it's only sexist if you say it to a girl."

Sam can't help but laugh then, a rough exhale as he shakes his head in exasperation. Dean can be so _dumb_ sometimes.

"What the hell do you know anyway?" Dean says. "You're _twelve_."

After a beat of a pause, Sam grins and says, "That's ageist."

Dean glances up immediately, scowl in place before he notices Sam's expression and then melting away into a flicker of a smile. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

That seems to settle the argument for at least a little while, a comfortable silence settling over them once more. Eventually, Sam inches closer to the fire, the flames dancing and licking at the sky, heating the front of him from forehead to ankle while his back stays stubbornly, frustratingly cold.

It reminds him of the astronomy unit in Mrs. Eickley's class. They were covering the planets and Mrs. Eickley had told them all about Mercury and how the temperature of the side facing the Sun is always hundreds of degrees hotter than the side facing away. She'd also told them about how Mercury rotates so slowly that their day is twice as long as their year, making one side of the planet bake for a long, long while the other freezes.

Which is, of course, how Sam gets the idea to start spinning.

It's pretty genius, he thinks. He keeps the blanket nestled firmly around his shoulders, careful to keep the bottom clear of the flames as he begins turning in a circle. Slow is the key, of course; he doesn't want to get dizzy. And it actually seems to help. The fire pops and crackles and Sam stays close enough to the flames that whichever part of him is nearest gets full benefit. Then a sway and shift of weight turns him to warm another for awhile and then another, keeping up a steady, easy pace.

At least until Dean interrupts with, "You plannin' on doing that all night?"

Without stopping, Sam shrugs. "It's either that or freeze."

"You're gonna give me motion sickness."

"So close your eyes."

"I have to watch the fire."

"I'll let you know when it needs more."

"Fuck that," his brother says with a huff. Sam has his back to both Dean and the fire, but he hears the quiet thud of the rod landing in the dirt followed by the scuffle of Dean's feet and is somehow still surprised when Dean wraps an arm around him from behind. Letting a startled grunt, Sam's first instinct is to fight. However, the blanket is impedes his movements and he just ends up squirming, trying his hardest to at least lodge an elbow in his brother's side. Somehow.

But Dean's about a foot and a half taller than him and a whole lot heavier, has muscles Sam's sure he'll never match. It's hardly a contest.

Dean drags him over to where Dean's coat is lying by one of the bigger upturned logs and basically drags him to the ground. "Just-- Damnit, Sam, just _chill out_ ," Dean snaps, all but wrenching Sam against him. Sam stumbles a little, still tempted to keep struggling. It's hard sometimes to tell when Dean's really trying to help and when he's just being an asshole.

As if reading Sam's mind, Dean grumbles. "Seriously. Come on."

With some trepidation, Sam relaxes a little. Dean shifts behind him, moves so that his back is to the log, each leg bent, knees bracketing Sam. "Okay," Dean says then and tugs at Sam's shoulder, guiding him to lean back against Dean's chest. Like Dean's some kind of living, breathing armchair or something.

And it's... it's nice, actually. Within moments, he's warm all over. Head to toe. Dean wrapped completely around him as the fire continues to flicker and spit before their eyes. And, though he won't ever admit it, he feels a little like Dean's protecting him from more than just the cold. It's not an unfamiliar idea by any means, but he still finds it strangely comforting. His brother may be an insensitive, clueless jerk sometimes, but he's still pretty much the best thing in Sam's life. And Sam is pretty determined to never forget that.

They're not going to get any sleep this way, of course. At some point his butt's gonna start to go numb or Dean's gonna need to take a pee, but for the moment, Sam just lets himself relax.

And when Dean mutters, "You're so totally a girl," a few moments later, he doesn't even care.

 **end.**

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/42972.html) on 11/17/2010.


End file.
